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The Pine Lake Song (1999)

Posted on Dec 5, 2013 in Americana, Songs

Atlanta long ago grew around Pine Lake, making the once far-out community enviably close in. The lake and its wetlands are federally-protected wetlands and the lake, which was dredged in 2011, is healthy and beautiful. The land and wetlands are all public park land. The city retains its girl scout camp look and feel, and residents know and are friends with one another.

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Keeping Things (2002)

Posted on Oct 5, 2013 in Americana

I’m a packrat. There, I’ve admitted it. I’m a packrat. It’s not that I horde things. Please be clear: I’m not saying I have rooms full of plastic sacks from the grocery or Hefty bags full of plastic six-pack holders and broken-off pull tabs from beer cans or every National Geographic since 1952 or old Popsicle sticks or a big ball of used aluminum foil. No, I just hang onto things, unless they’re broken or never worked properly in the first place.

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Ghost Story Collection (1974)

Posted on Oct 4, 2013 in Americana, School Papers

When I took MTSU’s only class in folklore I debated telling the instructor, Professor Ralph Hyde, that my father-in-law was Leonard Roberts, one of the pre-eminent folklorists in the United States. I decided to withhold that information. When I told Dr. Hyde at the end of the semester I could see him mentally replaying the entire course to see if he might have said anything that could have been taken negatively. He hadn’t.

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A Peculiar Fixation (Ongoing)

Posted on Oct 4, 2013 in Americana, Books

Several years ago I made, as a mental exercise, a list of the various motor vehicles I’ve owned. I was amazed to discover that in forty-some years of driving I had acquired, driven, and sold or otherwise disposed of more than 30 automobiles (the current count is 33 and one pickup truck) and some 17 motorcycles. When I compared my automotive experiences with acquaintances of a like age, I discovered most had owned far fewer vehicles—some as few as three, some as many as six. None had owned more than a dozen. I began to suspect I was a rare bird.

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I Do Not Like Thee, Dr. Phil (2009)

Posted on Oct 3, 2013 in Americana

I do not like thee, Dr. Phil

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Urban Misfit (1995)

Posted on Sep 13, 2013 in Americana

I can’t figure out if my haphazard pattern of living is an adaptive response to the vagaries of urban life, or if I’m seriously maladjusted. What do you think? Am I an urban misfit? Is anyone else living like this? Is anyone else as confused as I am? As disorganized?

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Vent Windows, Spare Tires (1995)

Posted on Sep 13, 2013 in Americana

When my 1979 Mercury Monarch died secondary to damage suffered when I was foolish enough to drive it in a hurricane, I refused (it was a form of rebellion) to buy a foreign-made, late-model, computer-controlled model with incomprehensibly complex mechanical components and infuriating safety features like warning lights and buzzers and a transmission which won’t go into gear unless you are stepping on the brake. Instead, I went retro. I bought a 1964 Dodge Polara.

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Wanted: Nation/State to Fill Vacant Axis of Evil Slot (2003)

Posted on Sep 12, 2013 in Americana, Humor, Politics

Wanted: Nation/State to Fill Vacant “Axis of Evil” Slot

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My First Car (1992)

Posted on Sep 12, 2013 in Americana

Some people are given their cars by their parents upon graduation from high school. Some save their money for years and buy shining new ones still smelling of Detroit or Tokyo. Some people have bad credit and buy leaking smoking dented behemoths from grassgrown second—hand lots. Some people are just plain poor and take whatever they can get for thirty dollars American.

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The Chronic Ward (1972)

Posted on Sep 12, 2013 in Americana, Developmental Disabilities

After lunch the patients gravitate to their chairs, where they sit mutely for the rest of the afternoon. At two p.m. the uniforms will give them cups of applesauce with tan and pink and green pills hidden within. At three p.m. the white uniforms will leave, when replaced by more of the same. The evening shift uniforms are told everything is all right.

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The Spring (1973)

Posted on Sep 12, 2013 in Americana

It gushed from the base of the mountain, water pure and year-round so cold it might have had ice in it. Long ago, I suppose, the spring fed into the creek that ran nearby, but long before I was born it was walled in with concrete and roofed with green shingles, and the water now flows away in a ditch, temporarily doing man’s bidding.

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Her Favorite Grandchild (1993)

Posted on Sep 12, 2013 in Americana

The house had three rooms and a porch, and I would sit on the porch with my cousins and slather Miracle Whip on white bread with a kitchen knife and slice red ripe tomatoes from Granny’s garden and lay them on the bread and eat them. The tomatoes had the scent of the vine still on them, and the bread was fresh and spongy, and we were young and approaching puberty; there was nothing better than a tomato sandwich eaten on the porch in the company of girl cousins.

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Reflections on the Passing of Dallas the Cat (1987)

Posted on Sep 12, 2013 in Americana

Those of you who have lost a beloved pet in the prime of its life will understand the extent of their grief. And mine. For although I have said I am a dog person, even dog people can love cats. And although I would have never told him to his face, I loved that cat rascal Dallas.

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Sport Death (1978)

Posted on Sep 10, 2013 in Americana

I would be jumping from three thousand feet. That’s less than fourteen seconds from the ground with no parachute. The other two jumpers would be getting out at eight thousand feet for a little freefall maneuvering (relative work or RW). None of that for me. I was jumping on a static line. I wanted that chute open even if I died of fright upon my exit. I pulled the end of the line to be sure the clip was fastened securely to the pilot’s seat, as my jumpmaster had told me to. Actually, I hadn’t liked the way he had brought the matter up. “Be sure to tug the end of your cord so you’ll know you’re hooked up. It’s funny— people will jump right out like you tell them to, a perfect stranger with their lives in your hands, without even making sure the line’s hooked.” He had grinned toothily. I tugged the rope again.

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